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As if four kids wasn’t enough we also have four dogs, all boys. Feeding them, keeping their shots up to date, and buying them toys costs us a pretty penny, same as our kids do, but they’re worth more than the trouble they get into so we keep ‘em around. Hmm, same as our kids do. *Insert pic of light bulb turning on above Maria’s head here.*

My secret favorite dog is Hogan, a sweet lil’ Dachshund Chihuahua mix, whose daddy, I’m convinced, is not actually the chihuahua his mother has led everyone to believe, but rather the much more good looking Doberman Pinscher “player” from around the way. Hogan maintains the never-experienced-a-shelter-mentality, innocent and loving. He’s constantly smothering people with dog kisses, which wouldn’t be so bad if his breath didn’t smell like a fish container.

There’s Auto, who can easily run for a plumpest-Chihuahua-in-the-neighborhood award. He likes to eat…everything. He’s also not the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean. God bless the guy, he’s the best lap dog ever, but he’s got his flaws. If you don’t watch him closely, he’ll eat rocks or one of the slimy frogs that frequent our street lamp post every night paying homage to the light. Yeah, frogs are weird like that.

Auto also likes to eat poop. Seems to be his thing, and ironically of all the dogs, who by the way don’t eat their poop, he has the best smelling breath. How ’bout that? Has my Auto discovered the secret to sweet breath? Ick, I shudder to think.

Our Yorkie Terrier, the dog we’ve dubbed with the most seniority since we’ve had him longest, his name is Hyden. We picked him up from a rescue a few years back. His previous owners, short term as they were, returned him because he kept cornering his “sister” cat in the house. Now that should’ve been my clue to his super hyphie behavior, but at the time I just figured, “He’s so cute, lets take him home!” (Now this is the same kinda’ thinking got me pregnant the first time around…kidding people, kidding. Geez, give me more credit than that!)

Hyden suffers short man complex. He sees a big dog and barks loud and crazy, I assume talking dog smack, in effort, I’m guessing, to cover his little dog insecurities. (Bet we all know a few men like that.) Still, we love him to pieces, especially when he walks around the house with rice stuck to his fur, in true Asian family dog fashion.

Our most recent addition we picked up from California this past summer. He belonged to my brother in law who recently passed away and dear hubby insisted we take him home, inevitably saving him from being sent to a shelter. Hence, being the Captain Save a Kid/Pet I am, we paid the $75 to Southwest to fly him back to Texas. And yes, he sat in the cabin with us and not the belly of the plane where the cheap pet owners send their dogs. Nope, this guy sat nice and comfy in his brand new Eddie Bauer carrier underneath our seats.

Comet II is one of those toy Chihuahuas that fit in your purse. Course, I would never put that guy in my purse. He pees too much. He pees when he’s excited, pees when he’s scared, when he’s hungry, to mark his territory. He’s a d*mn peeing machine. Personally, I think it’s because he has issues. He was the runt of the pack so he was always getting picked on by his three older siblings. Peeing seems to be his way to release built up anxieties. Hey, some folks eat their anxieties away, this guy tinkle pees.

We’re trying to work through those don’t-be-scared-you’re-safe-now hang ups, but for now we’ve resort to putting him in doggie diapers. Sounds pretty embarrassing, but he seems to like the attention he garners wearing it. And it works. Recently we even bought him a doggie playpen where he can roam around diaperless without us having to worry about a pee party in our living room.

The doggie pen now also serves as the repository for dog toys, blankets, treats…and as the Doggie Private Room. Yeah, sounds a bit red light district-ish, and it really is all the name implies.

We’ve since caught a few of the dogs in there…umm…taking care of business with their stuffed animals. (Feel free to give yourself a cootie shot right about now.) Usually it’s Hydie boy in there having relations with his beloved blue M&M doll. In fact, the guy is kinda’ like clock work, after dinner every night.

Disgusting as it sounds the doggie pen is working out much better than how things were before its existence, when the dogs would just drag their lucky toy of the night under the dinner table and start…well, you get the picture. So now when we catch the dogs trying to hanky-panky we just shoo them off to the Doggie Private Room and let them, you know, be dogs.